


Fancy Seeing You Here

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Primeval
Genre: Awkward Conversations, F/F, Families of Choice, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: Honestly, Stephen could have lived a long and happy life without ever bumping into James Lester at a petrol station halfway to Wales.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/gifts).



> I wrote this for Luka. :) Thank you fredbassett for the beta!
> 
> In the extremely likely event that someone is reading who is not familiar with the OCs I write, some of which I did not come up with, I should provide a bit of background: several years ago Fred wrote a character called Lyle who was intended to be background amusement and he insinuated himself a) into the foreground and b) into Lester's bed. Slightly later, I popped up and started writing about the children Lester references in S2 - including Liz. 
> 
> Events, as they say, eventuated.

          “I’m just saying, it’s not my fault that Jon is a lazy bastard.”

 

          “Truer words never spoken,” Ryan said, sotto voce, as he crouched down and went through their shopping, clearly looking for anything he might have missed that they needed.

 

Stephen grinned, looking around for the source of the original remark. It wasn’t a voice he knew, though something about it was familiar, and he assumed that the Jon being referred to was not in fact Jon Lyle. There were a lot of people called John, or who had names which could be shortened to something similar, and (as Stephen gave thanks for on a regular basis, usually after something had blown up) there was only one Lyle.

 

          “He’s taking a well-earned rest,” somebody else replied.

 

Stephen pin-pointed the speaking couple: a pair of teenage girls halfway down the aisle, a delicate-looking blonde leaning on a shopping trolley and a taller, stockier brunette standing on her tiptoes to reach a packet of crisps on the very top shelf. Both were dressed in casual skinny jeans, neutral hoodies and sturdy boots, though the small blonde was wearing walking boots and her friend was wearing bright green Doc Martens.

 

          “Well-earned rest my arse,” said the brunette, grabbing the crisps and dropping back down to earth. “He just wants to sit in the café and play footsie with my dad while we do the shopping.”  


          The blonde glanced at a paper list in one hand. “Well, we’re pretty nearly done, so…”

 

          “What are we missing?” The brunette flicked her dark ponytail back over her shoulder and peered at her companion’s list, leaning casually into the blonde’s space with one careless hand on her arm.

 

          “Fruit. Vitamin C.” The blonde turned her face and kissed her friend’s cheek; Stephen reassessed the relationship between them. They couldn’t be older than sixteen or so, but he’d seen less married thirtysomethings.

 

          “What I’m concerned about,” Ryan said, straightening up but still consumed by his culinary calculations, “is whether we have enough beer or not.”

 

          Stephen turned his attention back to his own shopping, which was contained in one wheelie basket instead of a massive metal trolley because it was only supposed to be providing for a hike the next day. “How much beer can you possibly need on one bloody hike? Remind me why we didn’t do this before we left London.”

 

          “Because this is a perfectly good supermarket and if we’d stayed inside the M25 for a minute longer you were going to lose your mind,” Ryan said promptly.

 

          “It’s a petrol station,” Stephen said, passing over the remark about his ability to keep hold of his mind. It was true they’d had an extremely frustrating few weeks, all complex anomalies on industrial estates and building sites, full of trouble with the press and issues with the paperwork: Stephen had begun to think longingly of anomalies in the wilds of Cumbria, where the biggest problem was dragging the equipment across four fields to an anomaly that never did hugely much while they were there, and had only disgorged a couple of creatures that someone had adopted as pets. They’d had little time to themselves. This weekend was meant to be a celebration of their anniversary, such as it was, and Stephen was extremely grateful for the chance to get some time somewhere a bit wilder and clearer than London.

 

          “It’s a very fancy petrol station.” Ryan wheeled the basket pointedly in Stephen’s general direction. “Come on, let’s go and get some more beer, and then you can go and get a coffee. Will that help?”

 

          “It’ll certainly wake me up,” Stephen said darkly. He was an early riser by nature, but Ryan took it to ridiculous lengths sometimes. Being dragged out of bed at five and told he could sleep in the car had reduced Stephen to speechless indignation for at least half an hour, no matter what Ryan had said about beating the Bank Holiday weekend traffic.

 

          “You love me really,” Ryan said, unfazed.

 

          “Ha,” Stephen muttered, wheeling the basket down the aisle. “You’re bloody lucky you’re handsome, sunshine.”  


          “That’s me,” Ryan said imperturbably, leading them both past the checkouts towards the small alcohol section, passing the pair of teenaged lesbians, who were currently queuing for a checkout with a trolley that contained enough food to feed the five thousand. They were now holding hands almost absent-mindedly. Stephen thought it was very sweet, and wished he’d been as happy at their age.

 

          “You wish,” Stephen informed Ryan.

 

          The couple Stephen had noticed before – who had plainly been listening in to Ryan and Stephen’s conversation as much as he had listened in on theirs – looked at each other and giggled.

 

          “Why are we taking beer hiking anyway?” Stephen asked, as Ryan marched inexorably towards the alcohol section and subjected it to a piercing stare.

 

           “That is a stupid question,” Ryan said, without any sting to the words, and heaved another six-pack into the basket. It was now overflowing.

 

“All right,” Stephen conceded, lining the basket up at a checkout and starting to lift things onto the conveyor belt. “Why are we taking _so much_ beer?”

 

“We’ve got a couple of days’ hiking ahead of us and the hostel doesn’t do meals,” Ryan said with extreme practicality, helping. “You want to run out of beer? We should just about manage this way.”

 

          “I should fucking think so!” Stephen shook his head, and carried on loading up the conveyor belt. Ryan slid past him to greet the cashier. “You haven’t even told me where we’re going.”  


          “You wouldn’t have heard of it if I had, you ignorant sod.”  


          “Just because some of us have been taking our walking holidays in the Amazon…”

 

          “Show-off,” Ryan said, but gave Stephen a fleeting grin as he paid for the food.

 

          Stephen couldn’t help his smile in response. He shook his head quietly, almost to himself, and went to start bagging up the food. There was absolutely no way they’d be able to carry all this, so Ryan must be planning for them to spend time at a central base instead of hiking and camping, at least most of the time. Stephen wasn’t sure exactly what their plans were or where they were going; Ryan had insisted that most of it should remain a surprise, though he had checked the weather forecast for the weekend and made a pleased noise, and Stephen could guess from Ryan’s driving habits that they only had a couple more hours to go.

 

A yawn crept up on him as he put the last pack of chicken pieces for sandwiches in the last plastic bag, and picked the bag up. "Can we go and get a coffee now?"

 

"Yeah," Ryan said, his face softening slightly as he looked at Stephen, a tiny smile curling affectionately at the corner of his mouth.

 

Helpless, Stephen smiled back at him, and then another yawn cracked his jaw wide open.

 

"You need to sleep more," Ryan remarked, picking up two bags in one hand and stuffing his wallet back into his pocket.

 

"It's just this last week that's been mad," Stephen said, a little defensively. "And the grant application and everything..." He knocked Ryan's shoulder with his. "Besides. It's not like you're any help."

 

Ryan's filthy grin was wholly unrepentant. Stephen rolled his eyes and pushed his two plastic bags into Ryan's free hand as they reached Costa. "You go and find a seat. Black coffee, double shot, two sugars?"

 

Ryan nodded and disappeared into the main café. Stephen headed for the glass-fronted shelving filled with pastries and the coffee bar behind it, and spent some time lingering over the choice of a breakfast pastry because he knew it would annoy Ryan when he got crumbs everywhere. He eventually settled on a pain-au-chocolat dripping with chocolate, smirking to himself at the thought of Ryan watching his hands as he licked crumbs and chocolate smears off his fingers, and ordered Ryan's vicious beverage along with his own, slightly more reasonable drink. He lounged peacefully against the worktop waiting for his drink, checking the news on his phone and enjoying the sunshine streaming in through the big windows, the chatter of happily caffeinated people, and the assurance that he didn't have to be back at work for three whole days. When his order arrived he smiled at the barista, full of good cheer, and loaded it onto a tray. Ryan was not difficult to find; there were no free tables, and only one had Marks and Spencer bags next to it.

 

Quite a _lot_ of Marks and Spencer bags, Stephen noticed, more than would account for their shopping, and he looked a little quizzically at Ryan as he walked over.

 

Ryan looked slightly frozen. Stephen frowned, and followed Ryan's gaze as he flicked his eyes to the right.

 

It was at that point that Stephen spotted Lester and almost dropped the tray on the table. Prudently, Ryan grabbed it before hot coffee could slop everywhere, and Stephen managed to sit down without missing the chair.

 

Lester was managing to appear calm and urbane despite a surprise encounter with his employees in a petrol station, and despite wearing a pair of extremely battered, ancient-looking jeans, a well-worn navy blue jumper, and surprisingly dishevelled hair. Lyle looked less awkward, but that was probably because Lyle thrived on mischief, and wasn't the boss of anyone present. They were with the two girls from the supermarket, sitting in a family group, which Stephen found vaguely astonishing; he had always sort of assumed that Lester lacked the soul to procreate, or - if he did have kids - had somehow cloned himself in order to acquire offspring with his usual finicky neatness, precision and heartlessness. The blonde and brunette were nothing like Stephen had imagined, too messy, too relaxed, and yet there they were, swarm of shopping bags to the left of them melding with his and Ryan's shopping. Well, that explained why the brunette referring to Lyle as a lazy arse had sounded familiar: looking at her now there was more than a passing resemblance to Lester.

 

The pair of them were also watching with intense interest. Stephen was reminded of velociraptors.

 

He looked at Ryan for help, but Ryan had disappeared face-first into his coffee. The silence was stretching out too long.

 

"Er," Stephen said cluelessly, and then - making a valiant effort - "Fancy seeing you here."

 

The blonde girl choked on her smoothie; her dark-haired girlfriend grinned, clearly highly amused, and gulped at her coffee. Lyle snorted, and Lester executed a rapid eye-roll that Stephen thought was probably as much instinct as anything else.

 

Stephen looked helplessly at Ryan and took refuge in his pain-au-chocolat. Ryan remained stubbornly silent.

 

"Going on holiday, Dr Hart?" Lester said, evidently deciding to take up the conversational mantle. "Where?"

 

"I don't know," Stephen said. "It's a surprise, apparently."

 

Ryan developed an extremely stolid expression; Lyle smirked. "Romance is not dead," he said.

 

"Enjoying your family weekend, Lyle?" Ryan said, deceptively mildly. "I don't think I've met your stepdaughter before."

 

Stephen saw Lyle flush pink across his cheekbones, and knew they'd won a point. Lyle was being remarkably cagey about his relationship with Lester - at least, cagey for him. They'd heard quite a lot about previous short-term girlfriends; he barely spoke about Lester, though it had been nearly a year. Claire and Mrs Preston were on the verge of staging some kind of ambush.

 

"There is so much going on here," Lester's daughter observed, "that I don't get. Like, at all." She sounded pleased by that, like they'd offered her some kind of fascinating challenge, and Stephen was not surprised when she set her coffee down, swivelled in her seat, and extended a hand to him.

 

He shook it; he wasn't sure he had a choice. She had a very firm grip for a teenager.

 

"My name's Liz," she said. "This is my girlfriend, Juliet."

 

"I'm Stephen," Stephen said. "Stephen Hart. I work with your dad."

 

"I'd got that far," Liz said, and opened her mouth to embark on another question that Stephen was vaguely dreading, but which suddenly turned into a yelp of "Ow! Juliet!"

 

"Not me," Juliet said, smiling at Stephen and Ryan.

 

Liz met her father's eyes and subsided into her seat.

 

"Behave," Lester said pointedly.

 

Stephen tried to stop himself smiling; Ryan didn't bother. Lyle leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, grinning like he was highly entertained.

 

"Fine," Liz groused, "you're no fun," and picked at the biscotti that had come with her coffee.

 

"Certainly not," Lester said in his prissiest voice, but Stephen saw Liz glance at him and hide a sneaking smile, and Lester's mouth twitched like he might be about to smile, too.

 

It was all disconcertingly human, and Stephen was vaguely unnerved. He'd also run out of small talk; he focused on the varnished wooden surface of the table and his breakfast instead. Much to his relief, Ryan gathered up the threads of the conversation, and managed to have a casual, light exchange with Lester that didn't leave anyone strangled for a topic of discussion, but also didn't make anyone think that a serious conversation or voluntary social interaction would be forthcoming. The girls mostly talked to each other, but they both had shrewd eyes that watched everything closely. Stephen found teenagers at large mysterious and discomfiting, but he didn't think it was purely his aversion speaking when he decided that the two of them were mentally cataloguing information on and questions about him and Ryan. After all, it stood to reason that Liz at least would be curious. She'd even started asking questions, before Lester had cut her off.

 

Also, she and Lyle and Juliet were now arguing about the outcome of a card game while Lester and Ryan chatted calmly. This was all really, really strange, Stephen thought, finishing his pain-au-chocolat and absently wiping his fingers.

 

Ryan flicked a glance at him, and Stephen managed a slight smile. Ryan nodded and went back to his conversation with Lester, and one of his feet slid across the floor under the table to press firmly against Stephen's ankle. The pressure was grounding; Stephen felt some of his unease slip away.

 

Liz turned to him and asked him something about kayaking; Stephen managed a response that almost felt natural, and then the conversation carried on, and Stephen didn't burst into flame and the floor didn't fall in beneath him, so everything was probably okay. After a few minutes, it felt almost normal.

 

Stephen was still glad when Ryan finished his coffee and announced that they should be getting on, though. He tried not to actually jump to his feet, or let his face brighten obviously, but on the way to the car Ryan shifted his two plastic bags to the other hand so he could clasp Stephen's briefly.

 

"He doesn't bite," Ryan remarked.

 

"Speak for yourself," Stephen retorted, trying to make it jaunty, but deflated when Ryan gave him a mild but unyielding look. "I just... I don't know him. And I always get the impression he's laughing at me."

 

"I don't think so," Ryan said. "But I know what you mean."

 

There was a slight pause, occasioned by their reaching the car and putting their bags of shopping into the boot, before Ryan climbed into the driver's seat.

 

"It was odd," Stephen volunteered, fastening his seatbelt. "Seeing him with Lyle and the kids like that. He looked more human."

 

"I know what you mean," Ryan repeated, and drove out of the car park, pulling back onto the motorway.

 

Stephen leaned his head against the headrest. "Where are we going?"

 

"You'll see when we get there," Ryan said, and Stephen smiled.

 

***

 

“Well, they were odd," Liz said forthrightly, helping ferry the shopping to Lyle's battered and ancient Land Rover.

 

Lyle gave her what passed for a severe look. "They're friends of mine."

 

"I could see that," Liz said, and smiled at him as she passed a couple of bags to him for packing into the boot, in among their weekend bags and caving kit. "But wow. How shy is Stephen?"

 

"Very," Lester said dryly, coming up behind her and handing over a case of beer. "You were extremely nosy, Liz."

 

Liz grinned shamelessly. "They were interesting."

 

"Kids these days," Lyle sighed.

 

Juliet, carrying over the last load of bags, let out a giggle. "Like you can talk."

 

"See what I mean, James?" Lyle demanded.

 

Lester rolled his eyes and checked his watch ostentatiously. "If we could start moving at some point in the near future? I'd like to make it to the cottage for lunchtime."

 

"Yeah, Dad," Liz said, and wrinkled her nose at him. "Whose idea was it to stop here? Instead of going to Tesco in Wells?"

 

Lester looked down his nose at her with exaggerated disdain and stalked off towards the driver's door; Lyle snickered, ruffled Liz's hair over her cries of protest, and then opened the car door and physically lifted Liz in with a theatrical grunt. Juliet laughed into her hands, and ran around to the other side of the car before Lyle could do the same to her.

 

"I hope they have a good holiday, anyway," she said, strapping herself in. "They seemed like a cute couple."

 

Lyle let out a shout of laughter, and in the rear-view mirror Liz could see her father grin. "Oh, I'm going to tell them you said that."

 

"Go ahead," Juliet said, and her fingers tangled with Liz's in the middle of the back seat. "They deserve to know."


End file.
